The Naked Man
by missmesmerizingstrange
Summary: Francis Bonnefoy is the world's best fingerpainter and Beatles impersonator for babies, and he has fallen head over heels for a Naked Man. Who is naked.


The Naked Man.

Once, there was a man. And he-

Was naked.

He was walking down the road in France when he had a sudden hankering to have his face painted.

And so, he went to find the nearest carnival by following the smell of sweat and freakshows and what may have been chlorophorm roses when he saw him- Francis Bonnefoy, the world's greatest finger face painter.

You see, while others may have chosen facepainting as simply an idle hobby, Francis believed it to be a true art that could only be attained, not with anything as imperfect as brushes, but with only the touch of the human hand. So he painted faces with his fingers.

The naked man sat before him, lips not quivering with anticipation. He stared at Francis. Francis stared at him. And then he stared at Francis. And then-

Francis noticed that this man was, in fact, naked.

The man himself was rather odd-looking, with large bulbous eyes, one leg drastically shorter than the other (but somehow he walked perfectly) and a full head of hair in the front that somehow faded to complete baldness halfway down the back of his head.

Francis immediately knew that this was his soulmate.

"Mon petit chou! You have come for me- and for a face painting!" Francis swooned, little hearts coming out from his head.

The Naked Man spoke French and was very confused by this statement. "I am not a cabbage," said the Naked Man. But he consented to have Francis paint his face anyway, because who cares if he was being called a vegetable, Francis was a very good facepainter.

"Gilbert! Bring me my tools!" He cried!

And Gilbert swiveled over in his rolling chair, paints in hand. He dropped the in front of the two and left them- now only in each other's company, to the sound of a squeaky wheel on the chair as it left.

"Gilbert," they heard a voice call- Roderich, in his own swivel chair which unlike Gilbert, who refused to leave his chair because of the sense of awesome adventure it prevented, merely did not leave his out of sheer laziness, "come back here."

And Francis raised his eyes suggestively at the Naked Man. Who was naked.

The Naked Man sat, unaroused, as he waited to have his face painted. Tentatively, Franc reached out, hands quivering-

_**And touched his face.**_

The Naked Man frowned in confusion. "Who is Franc, and why is he touching my face?" he asked the writers.

The writers apologized promptly and ejected Franc from the story to a very nice potato farm in Australia.

Now Francis reached out-

_**AND TOUCHED HIS FACE.**_

Not one bead of sweat crossed the Naked Man's brow- that would ruin his face painting, after all- and Francis continued his careful work of art. It was of a cell phone- 4g.

"What are you painting?" the Naked Man asked after a pregnant pause. The suspense was killing him.

"Only the most beautiful object to ever grace the face of this planet- besides you," Francis cooed.

The Naked Man nodded.

And in the process he smeared the painting- but that was okay! He was, after all, the Naked Man. And Francis was the best face painter ever.

_**EVER.**_

_**The Naked Man patiently awaited the completion of this art. The Naked Man did not tremble, did not anticipate the tension between his body and Franc's. Because this was France. And Franc is now in Australia. So the Naked Man's body was a pretty darn long way away from Franc's.**_

_**Franc was not mesmerized- Australia, remember?- But Francis was. He thought, this master piece needed something more. It was for his soulmate, after all.**_

…

…

…

_**He painted a phone cord all the way down to the Naked Man's-**_

_**The Naked Man frowned. "Why are you touching me there?" he asked, confused. "This is a face painting. You're not supposed to be touching my other parts. Though I guess I can't complain. Because I did come here naked."**_

_**Franc was not being touched inappropriately. Because Franc was in Austria.**_

_**I mean, Australia.**_

_**Gilbert, on the other hand, WAS in Austria.**_

_**IN A SWIVEL CHAIR.**_

"_**You DID come here naked!" Francis exclaimed. "And that means I have every right to touch YOUR ELBOW." He moaned, in the throes of a mad artistic inspirational splendor.**_

_**But just then, in the middle of his… splendor, Washington D.C. came running out of the bigtop with the most pained look in his big eyes that either of them- or Franc- had ever seen. "FRANCIS!" he cried. "I THOUGHT WE HAD SOMETHING SPECIAL! AND SO DID THE PHONES!"**_

"_**But who was phone?" Asked Francis, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. "And, ma cherie- he is the Naked Man! I could not resist! Oh, forgive me!" He winced, still touching the Naked Man's elbow.**_

_**Washington, completely dumbfounded, began to sob. "I'm taking all the phones! All of them! Even THE ONE ON HIS FACE."**_

_**The Naked Man was distressed. "Don't take my face. I like my face. Please."**_

"_**You must pay for what you have done!" Cried Washington. "You HOME WRECKER!"**_

"_**No, I am not a homewrecker," The Naked Man explained, still very distressed. "That is Franc. But Franc is in Australia, and thus currently cannot wreck your home. Therefore, we have no problems at the current moment. Francis, you may go back to touching my face. Or elbow, if you would prefer."**_

_**At that moment Washington saw the chemistry between the two and sobbed, uncontrollably, as he clutched his phone. Franc- was not there- but Francis quickly reached a hand up to protect the Naked Man's face.**_

"_**You will not take my masterpiece!" He cried, and hauled the Naked man over his shoulder, running from the circus at the speed of light!**_

_**He ran and ran until he was sure that neither Washington, nor Franc, not Gilbert or the swivel chair could find him and entered the first establishment he saw- a café, in which Antonio was deep in conversation with Death himself.**_

"_**You're a pretty cool guy, Antonio," Death said over a mug of beer. "You're chill, you know? I don't think I'll kill you after all."**_

_**Antonio nodded. Chilly. "I know."**_

"_**You have this confidence," Death said, "That the ladies find super sexy. I must find this confidence- they always scream whenever they see me." He sighed.**_

_**Francis's heart panged for Death- and Franc's did not- and the Naked Man remained stoic. **_

"_**If you wanted," Francis offered, making his presence in the café known, "I could help you find this thing you call confidence, Monsieur Death."**_

_**The Naked Man was once again distressed. "Do not leave me for Death, Franc. I mean, Francis. What would I do without someone to finish the masterpiece on my face."**_

_**Francis thought this over deeply. "You are right. You need me, Naked Man. No one else in the world- except maybe Franc- has the sheer artistic skill to finish what I have begun."**_

_**Death looked dejected, but just then Gilbert arrived in his swivel chair. "Dude, you just need to believe that you're awesome," He said. "I mean, not as awesome as me, but no one is. Don't worry about that."**_

"_**Really?" Death asked, hopefully.**_

"_**Nope," said Gilbert. "Just messin' with ya. If the ladies don't find you attractive already, you're screwed."**_

_**Just then, Roderich appeared in the doorway in his matching swivel chair. He was very distressed. "Gilvert," he said, though he was not sure as to who he was talking to, "come back."**_

"_**HER." Death cried, enamored with the Austrian's beauty. "I must have her!"**_

_**Franc, though he was not there, would not have cared anyway. The Naked Man watched as though he were watching paint dry. Francis covered his eyes, unsure of what would become of his dear companions. **_

_**All he knew was that the Naked Man would be safe.**_

_**And that he was naked.**_

"_**Of which maiden do you speak?" Antonio asked Death, though he wasn't quite sure as to why he was speaking in Shakespearian English. He spoke Spanish, anyway.**_

"_**Gilvert, of course," Death explained. "I love her."**_

_**They all looked around to try to locate the Gilvert in question.**_

_**But unfortunately, Gilvert was in Topeka.**_

_**Kansas.**_

_**And Franc was in Australia.**_

"_**But Death," Roderich started, wondering who he was referring to. Death cut him off.**_

"_**Shhh- don't speak." Death hushed. "I shall kill you, and then we shall be together."**_

"_**But I do not want to die!" Roderich cried out.**_

"_**Quit looking at my lady!" Gilbert barked, angry.**_

_**And in his swivel chair.**_

_**Roderich, also in his swivel chair of course, was very distressed.**_

_**Francis held the Naked Man's elbow tightly. "Well, whatever you two do, you cannot have my Naked Man. As you can see, he is mine." He paused. "And naked."**_

"_**No way," said Franc, completely coincidentally, as he had no idea what was going on in France. Or did he?**_

_**All we know is that in his office in Australia, Franc was sitting in a swivel chair. He was bored of his nine to five, though. **_

"_**I know what I shall do!" He said. "I shall take a trip down Baby Road. Yes. Yes I shall." He assured himself, and swiveled out of his office, never to be seen again until his lunch break was over.**_

_**Meanwhile, Death slowly approached Roderich, who swiveled backwards nervously. "It won't hurt- much." He assured.**_

"_**That's what Gilbert said the first time we had sex!" He shrieked.**_

"_**WHO IS GILBERT?" Asked Deta- but Deta was not there. So Death asked instead.**_

_**Meanwhile, what they did not know was that along with being the world's best fingerpainter, Francis was also the world's best Beatles impersonator for babies.**_

"_**I AM GILBERT," Gilbert announced, "AND I AM AWESOME. IN ALL CAPS."**_

"_**Bold, underline, and italics too, apparently," Roderich muttered.**_

"_**I AM TOO AWESOME FOR THIS!" Gilbert shouted, rocking the very fabric of the room.**_

And changed the formatting.

There was a bright light. A very very bright light.

The streetlights had turned on- it was getting rather dark.

The Naked Man was distressed.

"Francis," he said, distressed, "the light will cause the paint on my cheeks to dry prematurely, when you have not yet finished the masterpiece that is your fingerpainting."

"Have no fear!" Francis cried. "I will finish the painting right now."

And he sat down to work, sensuously rubbing both Naked Man's elbow and face, and Franc.

Roderich, Gilbert, Deta, Antonio, Death, and Gilvert all settled down to watch.

And they lived happily ever after- Naked.

The End.


End file.
